Time is of the Essence: A Pixar Tale
by Teekl
Summary: Worlds collide. The timeline as we know it begins to shatter. Time is of the essence. Time is what binds us together. It's what we're fighting for. Whether or not you've read John Negroni's absolutely brilliant Pixar Theory, you will understand and quite enjoy what I have to offer: a thrilling tale providing insight into the lives of our brave Pixar heroes' offspring.
1. Chapter 1: Jamie

_ J.P. Sullivan. _ It was so strange, seeing her name in bold black letters on the door to _her new office_. It was like a dream. Unreal.

"Wow," scoffed a familiar voice. "You must be so proud."

Jamie gritted her teeth and whirled around, "Shut up, Rory."

"Was it hard?" the sleek black monster went on, waving his slim, lanky arm in a gesture of sarcastic mockery. "Getting to be Chairman of the Board when your daddy runs the company?"

"I worked long and hard to get this job, Rory," Jamie spat. "It had nothing to do with family ties."

"Uh-huh," Rory snickered. "Sure."

"I don't know why I waste my breath on you," she snarled, escaping Rory's cynical gaze by pretending to scrutinize the figures on her clipboard. "I've got more important things than you to deal with right now."

"Look who's acting all high and mighty, just because she got a promotion," he continued. "What's it like to be all that and a bag of chips?"

Jamie snorted, not raising her eyes from the clipboard, "You tell me, Mr. Hot-Shot. Mr. Employee-of-the-Month. These kids' sense of humor must be going wayyyy down the toilet if _you_ can manage to make them laugh so hard."

"Second only to that Wazowski guy," Rory corrected grudgingly. "And I have my methods." he added slyly. _Note to self, that's not suspicious at all._

"Speaking of which, is there a reason you're not working right now?" Jamie inquired, not amused.

"It's my lunch-break, Almighty Chairman," Rory sneered. "Please don't smite me."

Jamie's claws groped for something to dig themselves into and found the clipboard, "That attitude will get you fired, ya know."

"You think I'm afraid of you?" Rory laughed, turning to walk away. "Think again. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to get back to work, _Chairman_."

The clipboard shattered into a million pieces. Fury broiled inside of her, and Jamie was sure she could rip something apart a billion times over fueled solely by her rage. Anger ignited like a spark and spread to a blazing wildfire.

But in the next minute, an ominous chill overcame her. She tried to push it away, but she was practically quavering with uncertainty.

It was night. A cool breeze blew in through the open window, disturbing the soft blue curtains as they billowed in the wind. Jamie tapped her fingers on the armrests of her chair absentmindedly. _This chair is not very comfortable, _she frequently noted, shifting in her seat multiple times over the course of one minute. An agitating silence had blanketed the room, and the only sound was the occasional scribble of a pencil as her father crunched numbers at his desk.

"Dad," Jamie finally piped up, leaning back in her chair and at last finding a comfortable little groove in the spongy cushions. "Why was Rory hired?"

Sullivan twisted in his chair to look at her, "Huh? Well, he's good at his job. Why?"

_'Cuz he's a jerk. _"Oh, no reason," Jamie said innocently, trying to play it off as an inquiry of pure curiosity.

He gave her a quizzical look, "Jamie, is something wrong?"

"Nope," Jamie replied, a little too quickly.

They lapsed into silence for a good 60 seconds.

"You made me Chairman because I'm your daughter, right?" Jamie challenged at long last.

He blinked, "What? Who's been telling you that?"

"Right?" Jamie repeated, unwavering in her confrontation.

Sullivan blinked, "No. No, of course not. Jamie," he gently brushed a strand of spotted blue-pink hair behind her ear. "I chose you because no one works as hard as you do. I saw your determination, and I knew that's what I wanted in a Chairman. I was happy and proud to hand that privilege to my own daughter, yes, but it wasn't the reason why-"

Jamie cut him off, "I'm too young and too rash and you know it! You act like I can _possibly_ live up to this _incredible legacy_ my family's established, but I _can't_. Why not make Rory Chairman? He's just as hard a worker as me."

"So," Sulley leaned back in his chair. "It's Rory that's been saying those things?"

"I never said that," Jamie muttered hotly, grimly aware of the futility of her own protests.

"Jamie," her father said. "I will have a talk with Rory, and you don't have to-"

"No!" Jamie interrupted. "Don't you see? That will only prove him right. I need to fight my _own_ battles and show him I can take care of _myself_."

"Is that what this is about? Pride?"

"It's about living up to those ridiculously high standards you and your dad set for me," Jamie spat, rising from her chair and sending it toppling over with one strong push. _I can't do this. I'm done. _She threw the front door open, stepped out, and slammed it with superfluous force. She didn't look back. She didn't know where she was going. She just ran.


	2. Chapter 2: Sid

Sid blew a strand of orange hair out of his face and grinned from ear to ear. He watched in sadistic delight as the poor fish was torn to shreds by his lovely piranha.

"Well done, Razor!" he cackled menacingly as fish guts drifted to the pebbly bottom of the tank. "That'll do nicely." There was an audible _snap_ as he captured the moment on camera, and then waved the new photo through the air to dry it. He clipped the picture to a clothesline, draped above the tank where a string of equally gory images were displayed. "Very nicely." Metal braces glinted in the dim light as Sid smiled cruelly to himself.

"Siiiiid!" called his mother from the kitchen. "How's the new fish I got you?" she appeared in the doorway, clad in a white cotton apron and rubbery yellow dish-gloves. "Can I see him?"

"No, Mom," Sid snapped irritably, scarcely able to conceal his macabre hobby with a bed-sheet before his mother saw. "We're playing a game." he gestured to the blankets innocently, adding slyly, "This is a game."

"This is the fourth fish I've bought you this week," his mother replied. "So don't get carried away with your games. We wouldn't want anything to happen to that poor thing."

"There's nothing wrong with a little fun," Sid said defensively as his mother left the room. "Nag, nag, nag," he muttered, uncovering Razor and running his fingers across the cool glass of the tank appreciatively. "You understand, right, Razor? My games are all in good fun."

He took the clothesline full of photos and dragged them to the closet to stash them away. He reached for the black doorknob, but before he could touch it, it started to jiggle and turn on its own. Either Sid was even more insane than he thought, or something was moving that closet's doorknob _from the other side_.

He gauged the situation for about one second before throwing the door open, but nothing could've prepared him for what he saw next. On the other side of the door stood a tall, lean...unfamiliar creature. She looked...humanoid, to a certain degree. At least humanoid enough to distinguish her as female-probably. Her skin was fair...but with a noticeably bluish tint. Long black claws extended from her fingertips. Wild blue hair tumbled down to her waist, sporting magenta-violet spots. Two little beige horns, curving up at the tips, sprouted from her head, poking out from under her hair. Periwinkle eyes stared curiously into his. She must've been at least six feet tall.

"Woops!" the she-beast exclaimed, looking embarrassed. "Wrong room! Sorry, I should really be more careful in which doors I open, I'll just get out of your hair and-"

"Now hold up," Sid interrupted, stopping the door with his foot before she could close it and grinning deviously. "Let's not be so hasty."


	3. Chapter 3: Kitty

Kitty narrowed his eyes as a jarring jolt traveled through his body. His artificial arm was tingling with an ominous jitter, and something felt inexplicably out of place.

"Fantastic," he rolled his eyes, chopping a massive block of wood in half and driving a razor-sharp knife into it with superfluous force. The hazardously precise tool sliced through the material like it was air-both for sharpness and the strength with which it was driven. In three impossibly concise slashes, the block was reduced to a familiar elliptical-sphere; a wooden doorknob. He inattentively tossed the knife away, where it danced through the air so swiftly you couldn't see it coming and where it promptly embedded itself in the center of an idle target-board hanging on the wall. He scowled moodily at the near-perfect doorknob and snorted. "Crude, but it will have to do."

In the corner of the room he kept an expensive, jewel encrusted mirror, given to him as a 14th birthday present from his mother. Its golden, diamond-studded frame boasted intricate patterns and elegant designs. The glossy silver surface was spotless and gleaming with majestic sheen. At the top of the frame there was depicted in royal shades of gold a strange, horned, spotted creature with sharp onyx claws and sapphire eyes. Kitty grunted, walking up to it and searching the beast's eerie, cerulean gaze quietly. The silence that ensued was almost tense.

Without another blink, he drove his wooden fist into the glass. It shattered into a billion shimmering fragments. He disdainfully plucked out a shard of glass that had decided to bury itself in his knuckles and let it drop to the floor like a stone. With the doorknob in his real hand, he smashed it into the mirror's bare frame, screwing it firmly in. Without hesitating, he turned the knob. There was no time to spare.

Indeed, time was the very thing at stake.


	4. Chapter 4: Jamie

Jamie stared at the human boy's foot like it wasn't registering in her brain. "Huh?" she said intelligently.

"Mmm," the boy chuckled. "Not quite the full quid, are we now?"  
Jamie blinked, "_What?_"

"You're a strange sheila if ever I saw one," he went on, pushing his way past her. "Who knew I had a whole new world in my closet?" he glanced around. "What is this place, exactly?"

Jamie shook her head, "Listen, Mr., you're not allowed in here!"

"Mmmhmm," the redhead waved a distracted arm dismissively, and something inside of Jamie flared up. She was _horribly _ashamed to admit it, but it irked her that this little brat wasn't afraid of her. Granted, she wasn't really _trying_, but still, the kid didn't even seem surprised in the _slightest_ to see her. It was...disconcerting, to say the least.

"Now listen here," Jamie said, trying to assume her father's authoritative voice. "You can't just go barging in without permission. Humans aren't supposed to be here!"

"Human," the boy replied observantly. "Something I assume you are not?"

"Not at all!" Jamie retorted. "And I don't think I'd _want _to be if all of them are as inconsiderate as you!"

"No, no, trust me," the boy assured, still looking around curiously. "I'm one of a kind."

Jamie crossed her arms, "Good, you little twerp."

"So, what are all these doors for?" he inquired offhandedly, tracing his fingers across the control panel in infatuation.

"They're portals to other dimensions that we use to torture nosy little children," Jamie snarled.

The boy smirked, "Wicked." With a resonating chuckle that echoed across the empty halls of Monsters Inc. like a foreboding omen, he slammed a fist down on the activation button. "Let's see what's behind door #1."

Jamie's eyes widened, "Don't you dare set a foot inside that door."

The boy snorted, "Or what, you'll ground me?" he turned the knob.

Too late Jamie lunged forward to stop the boy; she grabbed thin air and came crashing to the ground. Looking up to glimpse the door he had entered, a bone-chilling shiver shot up her spine. The door was wooden, like most of them, but appeared much more ancient...it carried an enchanting aura about it, and it was short and rounded at the top. She only glimpsed a shattered mirror within before it slammed shut.

"You!" shouted a voice from behind her.

Jamie whirled around to locate the owner of the voice. Standing behind her was another boy-but this one had a _wooden arm_. His jet black hair bore a streak of white. His pale blue eyes were like shimmering fragments of ice, yet somehow they were so hot they were burning holes through her.

She blinked, "M-Me?" she managed to choke out.

The black-haired boy approached her, "What the heck did you do?"

Jamie crossed her arms, coming back into her usual sassy persona, "Well, someone didn't get their full eight hours last night."

The boy scowled, "Listen, you moron. _The entirety of the space-time continuum_ is at stake, so either put that insufferable prattle to good use and tell me all that I wish to know without petty non-sequiturs, or I shall instill within you the unfathomable agony of a thousand dying suns, thenceforth shall you experience the interminable scorch of my fury for the remainder of your _pitiful existence_."

Jamie snickered, "Sticks and stones, brother. Look," she added before he could spit another creepily poetic threat at her. "I don't even know what the heck is going on _myself_. I came here to clear my head and just the opposite happens!"

The boy buried his face in his palm, "I don't need you to _understand_ anything, I just want you to _tell me what happened_."

Jamie smirked, recognizing her advantage, "Well...I might be able to help you, Mr...um, what's your name?" she asked innocently.

"Call me Kitty," he hissed venomously.

Jamie guffawed, "_Kitty?_ What kind of name is _that?_ Especially for a _guy_. Why would anyone-"

"Will you please shut up and tell me what I need to know?" Kitty seethed.

Jamie put her hands on her hips mockingly, "Well which one is it? I can't do both."

"Was there or was there not another boy just in here?!"

"There was."

"And what the heck were you doing activating all these doors when the laugh-floor is supposed to be locked up?"

"Well, that's really a funny story-wait," Jamie narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "How could a human boy know so much about Monsters Inc.?"

"I'm a time traveler," he said bluntly.

Jamie snorted.

Kitty shot her a piercing glare, "Don't believe me? Jamie Periwinkle Sullivan, daughter of James P. Sullivan, age 22, blood type O positive. At this point in time you will have been recently promoted to Chairman of the Board and tormented by your former peers because of it. You just had an argument with your father and came here presumably to clear your head. In fourth grade you accidentally poked someone's eye out with a pencil. You were dejected for weeks afterward, even though the victim's eye grew back the next day. You're the youngest Chairman in the history of Monsters Inc., you're probably feeling insecure about it and should currently be experiencing an abundance of doubt as a result, although you attempt to cover up this weakness through excessive spunk and fierce determination. I see right through your facade."

Jamie stared at him blankly, dumbfounded, "How...?"

"I've been hopping through this timeline since I was in _diapers_. I have studied every moment, every second of existence with a keenness you could never _hope_ to achieve. I have cause-and-effect down to a _science_. My connection to time itself is undeniable, and I know my own timeline better than the back of my hand."

"Well, if you're so omnipresent, then how come you need me to tell you anything?" Jamie questioned.

"_Attempt_ to wrap your mind around this," Kitty explained. "The _original timeline_ has somehow deviated from its original course. Some temporal anomaly has tampered with time itself and changed the outcome. There's no telling how things will turn out, now that that child is out there _messing things up_. Not to mention that the temporal fluctuations may have a ripple effect and change important events of the _past_ as well as the _future_."

Jamie shook her head, "In English, please."

Kitty sighed impatiently, "_Look_. What happens if you break _one single point_ on a piece of glass?"

Jamie thought for a second, "It shatters."

"_Right. The whole thing shatters_. It's the same thing with the timeline. You change _one point in time_ and the _whole timeline_ breaks into irreparable fragments. Lucky for us, unlike a mirror, the timeline won't shatter all at once. When you drop a stone in the water, it creates a ripple, which slowly spreads out to the rest of the water. It's the same thing with the temporal fluctuations. Every time a temporal wave-a _ripple_, if you will-hits a point in time that we happen to be in, things will begin to change randomly. There's no predicting how exactly it will affect us."

Jamie nodded slowly, "Um...okay, I think I understand. But how could the timeline change? If you know about everything ever, then how did you not see this coming?"

"Because this isn't supposed to be happening!" Kitty threw his hands up in exasperation. "I don't know how, but somehow that boy, or _something_, managed to escape the original chronological events of time and change something! Don't ask me how, it's one of those freaking time paradoxes."

"And how does...did-I don't even know what tense to use anymore-this kid figure out how to time travel? How did _you_ do it?"

Kitty looked at her incredulously. "Don't you know? Your little doors are portals through _time_!"


	5. Chapter 5: Pascale

A nauseating wave of colors flashed across her brain, "Please, terminate the rewiring process!" she pleaded, but her voice came out warbled and distorted. "What have you done to my audio system?"

"Don't be alarmed, Pascale," Calvin coaxed. "The degauss required me to temporarily rearrange a few wires, which may interfere with some of your primary functions. Only momentarily, though." she heard several clicking noises, indicating that more wires were being _rearranged_.

"And, please, how much longer will that take?" she inquired, twisting her head to catch a glimpse at what he was doing back there.

"It's hard to say," Calvin admitted, and Pascale tingled a bit as he reached further into the panel in her back. "After all, you are one of the first and most complex cyborgs on the face of the Earth. It's difficult to-stop fidgeting, will you?-difficult to calculate the exact...amount of time..." he faltered, apparently distracted by his work. Pascale patiently turned her head back around and waited for him to finish. She focused absentmindedly on the digital clock built into the wall, and let her mind wander to thoughts of WALLE and his revolutionary endeavors to strengthen the bond between man and machine by creating cyborgs out of those born with defects only machinery could replace. She had been one such person; born with a defective leg, a defective eye, a defective heart...(the list went on)...only the technical wonders of cybernetics could compensate for the parts of her that she should've been born with. They gave her a _new _leg, a _new_ eye...and a _new _heart. She used to be weaker than the rest of the human race, but now she was stronger, and it was a chance for her to have a new start. Calvin, being an expert in technical wonders and one of the leading mechanics in the Cyberbionics Program, was naturally in charge of her maintenance.

"You know, Pascale..." Calvin began, initiating another conversation. "I've never met anyone quite like you. Both in the world of robotics...and in all of humanity. You're one of a kind."

"Thank you," she replied gratefully, unsure of where Calvin was going with this.

"I know this may sound strange, but..." he faltered again, pausing for a moment. "No...no, I shouldn't tell you right now..."

"Tell me what, Calvin?"

"You needn't worry about it. I'll tell you tonight. Or tomorrow. Or sometime...Right now I need to concentrate on this. Your degauss."

Pascale shifted uncomfortable from foot to foot, "A degauss that takes this much time seems inefficient and not very worthwhile."

"If we _don't_ give you a degauss, your vision will continue to degrade until you can't see clearly."

"Surely WALLE and EVE don't require tedious degausses?"

"WALLE and EVE aren't cyborgs," Calvin countered. "Now will you hold still? Jeez, it's like you've got ants in your pants or something."

"I feel strange," Pascale explained.

"Probably a side-effect of the degauss," Calvin murmured. "Hang in there, I'm almost done...Just a couple more wires...you should start feeling back-to-normal now, Pascale. All your systems are functioning properly again except visual receptors, which will be erected as soon as I finish..."

Pascale tingled again, eager to have the freedom of mobility once more.

"Almost...dang it!" he slammed a fist on the floor and cursed under his breath. "I'm sorry, Pascale, it appears I'm going to need a couple more tools." he closed the panel in her back-it wasn't safe to leave such vital wiring exposed-and rose from his position crouching behind her. "I'll be right back, but try not to move around too much. Your degauss hasn't been completed _just_ yet."

Pascale nodded dizzily as another flash of color danced across her vision, "Thank you, Calvin."

Cal grimaced, "Don't thank me yet." he walked over to the metal door and slipped out. Pascale's iridescent gaze followed him longingly. It had been a while since she'd been outside. She yearned to feel fresh air on her face. But she was still in the experimental stages of her newfound bionic physiology, and Calvin said it was best to stay inside until she settled into her new skin. Reluctantly, she let him go without a word. She carefully arranged herself in such a way so that she could lean against the wall comfortably, but, almost as soon as she had settled in, her closet door began to _rattle_.

"Calvin?" Pascale called, taking a hesitant step towards the closet door. "Calvin, is that you? If you're attempting to frighten me again-"

"Hullo! I'm Sid, and I'm here to wreak havoc on this dimension!" shouted a red-haired boy as he leapt out of the closet. He stopped dead and stared. "Blimy, are _all_ these dimensions full of kooky sheilas?"

Pascale opened her mouth, formulating a response.

"Nevermind that, just come on with me," he grinned. Without another word, he grabbed her by the arm and pulled her through the door.

Her degauss may not have been completed, but she knew she wasn't hallucinating what she saw next.


	6. Chapter 6: Royce

Colors and shapes began to blur as they zipped past, creating a rainbow funnel of vision.

"Woohoo!" Royce wailed, as though he were riding some seriously gnarly waves. Which he might as well have been doing, except about _twenty million times more awesome_.

"Hey, watch it!" came the muffled complaint of some innocent passer-by.

"Nope!" Royce cackled, kicking into high gear as he left the little whiner in the dust. _Nope, nope. Not stopping for anyone. Royce Rolo flies __**solo**_. He cackled his carefree chuckle once more, going _faster. Faster_.

"_Faster_," he found himself muttering. And faster he went. But it felt like it wasn't fast _enough_. "Too slow." he grimaced, descending from reckless joy to impulsive frustration. _Not this again_.

Too late he braked, screeching across the asphalt so loudly they must've heard it across the Pacific. He skidded and careened off the road, slamming into a metal pole fifty times harder than he would've liked.

"Gah," he winced. "Fender-bender."

A pathetic and agonizing attempt to move affirmed that suspicion.

"Nothing that can't be pounded out," he reassured himself, rolling himself back onto the road with effort. He groaned, carefully and cautiously making his way back to town at a sluggish pace. He passed the old car that had yelled at him earlier. Royce tried to sneak by, eyes lowered, without being noticed, but it was hard for the passer-by _not_ to recognize his sleek black coat with an impossible rainbow-like sheen. He practically resembled a black pearl.

"Should've listened to me and watched where you were going, eh?" the geezer teased. Royce resisted the urge to ram into him out of pure spite. _Barely_.

He settled for just rolling his eyes and puttering on pathetically.

_Five million years later_, he rolled into town. He was starting to think it was more than just his fender and his ego that got smashed.

"Gonna need to visit Vance..." he muttered. "He'll fix me up."_ And hopefully without asking about how I got so messed up..._

He looked around. The town seemed so much quieter than usual...It was unsettling.

"Hello?" he ventured, vaguely wondering if this was a prank. He carefully maneuvered around a shattered light-bulb and glanced around. The buildings seemed hollow and desolate.

"Hello!" he shouted in a more demanding tone. He was liking this less and less, and with good reason, too. The town had taken on an eerie-deserted-ghost-town vibe. "Anybody here?!"

He almost released a girly scream-thank goodness he didn't, that would've been embarrassing-when something dug into his rear end and dragged him into the shadows, like one of the nightmare monsters parents tell their children about to scare the living bolts out of them. He whirled around in a combo of shock, fear, embarrassment, and rage. It was Lennie, the local tow-truck. His lime green coat was unmistakable.

"What the heck, man!" Royce hissed, not in the mood for shenanigans. "Is this some sort of joke?! Because I'm not-"

"Quiet!" Lennie hushed, uncharacteristically agitated. He glanced around warily and paused before speaking again. "She'll hear you."

Royce rolled his eyes, "_Who?_"

"_Her_," Lennie nodded at something behind Royce. Not sure what to expect, Royce turned to glimpse what Lennie was referring to. The sleek black racecar's eyes widened. He wasn't sure what he was looking at, but it was beautiful.


End file.
